Should Have Known
by Elincia Mahariel
Summary: She never wanted this to happen. She never asked to be the Champion, or to have Kirkwall's fate resting on her shoulders. But now she has to make a choice; it's either mages, or templars. Either way, she'll have to lose someone. Rated M for sexual innuendo and violence, but mostly just to be safe. This one gets pretty dark.


**Disclaimer: I don't own Dragon Age or it's characters, blah blah blah, etc.**

**Authour's Note: This contains major spoilers for the end of Dragon Age II. You've been warned. I also changed Hawke and Fenris' reconciliation in Act III to fit my evil purposes. It's fanfiction. I get a free pass to do what I want.**

* * *

Marian had always been her brother's keeper. He always whined that she never hovered over Bethany the way she did him, but she would just cuff the back of his head and tell him she didn't have to worry about Bethany. Carver was the one who got into fights or ran off into the woods alone on a dare, and Marian was the one tasked with dragging him home. She was the one who dunked him in the stream to wash the mud off his clothes and healed his bruises so their mother wouldn't see. It was better when she didn't have to worry.

The day Bethany and Carver were born was the day she promised herself to keep them safe. For sixteen long years, she'd succeeded. Then the darkspawn struck Lothering, and she had to save her family. Bethany died that day, and she didn't know who blamed her more: her mother, Carver, or herself. Carver had been so angry in the months that followed. Marian tried everything to get him to smile again. She even tried dispensing with her usual sarcasm and being openly nice, but all it did was put them both so on edge she wanted to scream. No matter what she did, Carver slipped away.

When the time came to head into the Deep Roads for the expedition that would make them rich, she left him behind despite his protests. When he begged her to let him go, all she saw was the rash little boy with a lopsided grin and twigs stuck in his hair. She couldn't let him come. It was the only way to protect him. She knew it was stupid to try so hard to keep him safe. He was a full head taller than her and could fit both her hands in one of his. He probably had a better chance than anyone on the expedition of surviving the dark tunnels.

When she came back from the Deep Roads, bloodied and craving a soft bed, she found out he had joined the templars. She had lost him for good, and now she couldn't protect him. She couldn't shelter him when the Arishok attacked, or when Meredith slowly tore Kirkwall apart. Every time she walked past the Gallows or saw a templar patrolling the streets, worry gnawed at her gut. If Anders or Merrill tried to ask what was wrong, she hid her fear with a quick smile or a witty remark. She became incredibly good at avoiding their questions, and eventually they stopped asking.

Maybe that was her problem; she avoided things. Maybe that was why the hate between mages and templars had simmered until it boiled over. It was what drove Anders to plant a bomb in the Chantry. It was what kept everyone around her at a distance. It was why Fenris never so much as tried to get her back, no matter how much she flirted or how long she waited.

And now here she was, being forced to pick a side in a conflict she'd tried to stay out of. No more avoiding it. She looked from Meredith to Orsino and saw the hate in their eyes. She looked at Carver, silently begging her not to make him fight her. She looked to Anders, but he stared at the ground and folded his arms like he was trying to shrink into himself. Varric gave her a silent nod. He, at least, would stand by her. Merrill wide eyes darted around, taking in as much as she could. Aveline looked just as uncertain as Marian felt. She hesitated, but her eyes landed on Fenris. His face stayed stuck in its usual mask, but they locked eyes and he let his guard down for just a second. In that moment, she knew he wouldn't follow her if she sided with the mages. She had to choose; protect her own and lose Fenris, or side with the templars. Could she really do it? Could she abandon her own kind?

Meredith's voice snapped her back to reality. "Today, Champion. You must choose. Order, or chaos." She glared at Orsino.

Marian tore her eyes from Fenris and faced the woman's icy stare. "Spout your dramatic platitudes all you want, but you won't change my mind." She squared her shoulders and raised her chin. "I fight with the mages." She silently prayed it was the right choice.

Merrill nearly tripped over her own feet in a rush to stand beside her. "Me too."

Varric came to her side. "I'll have some good stories to tell after this one."

Aveline's eyes darted about, but she eventually nodded. "If I can't do something smart, I might as well do something right. I stand with you, Marian."

Carver's eyes widened. "Sister, I don't want to fight you. Please, don't make me." The image of him as a little boy with a mud-streaked face popped into her head.

Meredith seized his arm and fixed him with her intense stare. "Remember your duty."

His eyes darted back to Marian for a second, but then dropped to the uneven cobblestones. "Yes, Knight Commander."

Marian wanted so badly to run to him, pull her little brother into her arms and shield him from danger like she did when they were children, but she couldn't. She was the one putting him in this position. She had failed him.

She turned to Fenris, hoping he would join her even though she knew he wouldn't.

"How can you do this? You know this is wrong," he spat. His marks glowed softly as they did when his emotions grew too strong for him to contain. Marian remembered back to a time when they didn't glow in anger, when his eyes had darkened with lust as he pressed her against the wall and kissed her, hands tearing at her clothes and—no. This really wasn't the time to think about that.

"This isn't wrong." She unconsciously took a step towards him. "Can you not see that? For once, couldn't you at least try to understand?" They edged towards each other until they were so close they were almost touching. She looked up at him and felt his breath on her face. A lock of pure white hair had fallen into his eyes, and she barely managed to keep her hand from reaching up to smooth it back. "If I ever meant anything to you, stay with me."

She liked to think he cared for her, even in his own screwed up way. The uncertainty ate at her every day, and every day she couldn't help but remember the last words she had said to him before kicking him out of her room all those years ago.

_"So you want to leave? Fine. It was just sex. It didn't mean anything."_

He hid it well, but she saw a flash of pain in his eyes before he turned and left, slamming the door behind him. A part of her delighted in the pain she caused him. She didn't let him see, but it hurt to wake up just as he was trying to slip away without so much as a goodbye. At least she could make him hurt, too. It took weeks for her to admit to herself he meant so much more than sex to her. Still, her pride demanded she make him come crawling and begging to have her again. She was patient. She waited and waited, but his stubbornness won. It was just last night that she had finally broken down and gone to him. All she had to do was ask, and he took her back. It was then she finally noticed how much he needed her. The haste with which he all but dragged her to his bed, how tense his slim body felt against her, the way he moaned her name in her ear.

It was then she realized she loved him.

She told him the next morning as the sunrise trickled through the rips in his mouldy curtains. He didn't say anything, but he smiled and brushed her hair behind her ear in a strangely affectionate gesture. He had kissed her gently, then got up to get her some breakfast. She hadn't expected him to say anything. It wasn't in his nature. She thought they would have all the time in the world to figure things out, and then maybe he could feel the same way about her. That was before everything spiraled out of control. She briefly wondered how the man who made her eggs just that morning could turn into the hateful man standing in front of her.

Fenris' eyes danced over her face, landing on her lips before snapping back up to her eyes. "I should have known you would do this. I thought you were different, but you're just like the rest of them. All mages are the same."

She blinked. "That's not fair." She was proud of being a mage, but she knew he was comparing her to the magisters and the blood mages he had a personal vendetta against. He couldn't really hate her that much. She reached for his hand, but he snatched it away. "Please, Fenris. I want you to stay." He looked away, but she caught his eye again. "I love you."

He didn't even flinch. "I don't care."

Each word stabbed her like a knife. The malice in his gaze shocked her into silence. How could she have tricked herself into thinking she mattered to him? He was always just toying with her, making her feel special as a part of some sick game of his. She bit her lip to keep tears from her eyes. Stupid. How could she have been so stupid?

He smirked. He knew he had won. "What? No sarcastic quip? No flippant remark? Not even a childish insult?"

Her whole body tensed like a drawn bow. "You've made your choice, and I've made mine. Are we done here?" She willed herself to hold his gaze, much as it hurt.

"We're done." He untied the worn red ribbon he always wore on his wrist. She'd worn that ribbon in her hair all the way from Lothering to Kirkwall, and it was the one piece of home she had. She should never have trusted him with something so special to her. He dropped the ribbon into the dirt and walked away without a word. On Meredith's order, he marched out of the courtyard with the rest of the templars. Marian alternated between staring at the back of his head and Carver's. Her brother slipped his helmet on, and to anyone else would have been indistinguishable from the rest of the knights, but she could always pick him out in a crowd. She watched until they both disappeared around a corner.

She was in a daze as she crouched to pick up the ribbon. The edges were frayed, but still shone a bit in the moonlight. Her fingers moved on their own to brush the dirt off. She didn't know whether she wanted to keep it or light it on fire, but eventually used it to tie her hair back from her face.

She turned to look at the few who chose to follow her. They probably hadn't heard what she had said to Fenris, but they could guess. She was grateful none of them tried to say anything. Merrill looked like she wanted to, but settled for a silent hug that Marian numbly accepted.

She was vaguely aware of Orsino talking to her, telling her how grateful he was and to meet him at the Gallows after she dealt with Anders. Varric sensed she wasn't paying attention and did all the talking for her.

She tried her best to stand up straight and at least look like she wasn't a complete mess. She had things to do, people to see, and an entire army of templars to cut through. She looked around until she saw Anders. He sat on a crate, staring at the ground and looking like a man about to be taken to the noose. Marian walked over to him and sat on the crate with him. She cursed herself for not taking the time to really listen to him when she knew how badly he was hurting. She'd hoped a good dose of tough love would help him get through it, but that hadn't worked so well. She looked at the cloud of smoke where the Chantry used to be and bit her lip.

Anders barely showed he knew she was there. He didn't even look at her. "There's nothing you can say I haven't already said to myself. Whatever you're going to do, get it over with."

He expected her to kill him. He had done this thinking he would die. She swallowed the lump in her throat. How had she let it go this far? Whatever happened to Anders was her fault. "I'm sorry," she whispered.

He snorted. "You didn't blow up the Chantry. What are you sorry for?"

She put a hand on his shoulder and guided him until he was sitting straight. He finally looked at her, and for the first time she realized how broken he was. His eyes didn't even hold an ounce of happiness. She put her arms around him and held him tight. "I'm sorry I didn't listen to you. I'm sorry I spent so much time worrying about myself. I'm sorry I wasn't the friend you deserved." No matter what, Anders had always been her best friend. He was there through every pathetic Fenris crisis of hers, every drunken night at the Hanged Man, every time she was bored and just wanted someone who could make her laugh. It was past time she was a friend to him. "I forgive you," she whispered in his ear. "It wasn't what I would have done, but I forgive you."

His shoulders trembled with sobs, but he pushed her away. "Don't. I know I don't deserve forgiveness."

She took his hands. "Then earn it. Fight with me."

His head snapped up. It was fragile, but she thought she saw a glimmer of hope in his eyes. "You'll let me stay with you? You'll let me fight?"

She smiled and stood, pulling him with her. "I need a good healer."

His little smirk told her he still recognized her sarcasm. He was still the Anders she knew and loved like a brother. "I'll fight with you, friend."

She stayed by his side as the first wave of templars flooded the courtyard. As long as she was alive, no one who stood with her would die that day.

* * *

She fought through the streets until she finally reached the Gallows. Every time a Templar fell at her feet, the cold pit in her stomach grew. Was it Carver lying in a pool of blood? Would the next Templar she fought be her little brother? Could she ever forgive herself if she killed him?

A different worry ate away at her when her thoughts turned to Fenris. She would see him coming. She would know it was him when he came to fight her. It would be personal. That was almost harder to bear than the doubt she had about Carver.

As she fought through the streets, an ice cold rain began to fall. It soaked her clothes and hair, making her shiver. The streets turned to mud and the gutters became black streams.

She finally reached the Circle, only to have Orsino turn to blood magic and become the most grotesque abomination she had ever seen. She barely felt anything as she fought and killed him. Too many thoughts already bounced around in her head. She didn't have room for more. All she felt was a vague sense of annoyance. She gave up everything to help her own kind, and then Orsino betrayed her.

It was as she was leaving the gates of the Circle when the first moment she dreaded came. Wave after wave of templars came at her, and she ruthlessly blasted through them. Only one templar was left standing, and she was about to kill him when he held up his hands in surrender.

"Wait!" The Templar pulled of his helmet, and it was Carver. "I don't want to fight you. I just couldn't say so in front of Meredith." He sheathed his sword. "You may be the worst sister ever, but you're still my sister. I won't fight you." He held up his hands in surrender.

Her staff clattered to the ground as she ran to him and hugged him, tears streaking her bloodstained face even as she grinned. "Worst sister? I'm the best sister."

He hesitated, but wrapped his arms around her so tight she could barely breathe. He was so tall he almost lifted her off the ground. A weight had been lifted now that she knew her brother would be alright. He was the only family she had left, and she couldn't lose him. She wouldn't. She smiled and kissed him on the cheek.

It was only the clatter of armoured boots on the uneven cobblestones that made her release Carver and turn to face the next wave of templars. Time slammed to a stop when she saw who led the attack.

Fenris.

He sneered as he looked at the piles of bodies around her. "Look at you now, Marian. Still claiming mages are innocent?"

"I never said we were innocent." She stole a glance at her staff where she had dropped it. It was only a few steps away, but Fenris moved fast. She would never make it before he cut her down. Lucky for her, he was in a gloating mood at the moment. She looked back at Fenris, and it sickened her that she was actually considering how to kill him.

He had seen where her gaze wandered. He smirked, and she knew exactly what he was thinking. She didn't stand a chance. "It was always going to end this way, wasn't it?" she asked. She should have realized how terrible they were for each other. Everyone else saw it.

"Yes. It was." His hands curled into fists. "I should never have let you get so close. Being with you was my worst mistake." He drew his sword, but had to duck as a fireball swished over his head and exploded in a clump of templars. The flames hissed and spat in the rain. She silently thanked Merrill.

Marian had a chance, and she took it. She ran the few steps to her staff and snatched it up. She turned to face him with the staff brandished in front of her. She summoned a spark of electricity and let it glow in her hand. Now it was a fair fight.

Fenris was right behind her, and she barely dodged his first vicious strike. She managed to utter a few spells, but soon he had her backed against a wall with his sword inches from her throat. The muscles in his arms bulged and his markings flared as he tried to force through the barrier she made before he could cut her head off.

He was so close she could smell his breath. "Reminds me of the old days," she gasped. Sweat poured down her face with the effort of keeping his sword at bay.

He didn't say a word, but reeled back and hit her again. The impact broke her barrier, but the sword bounced back. She slumped to the ground. He used the tip of his sword to lift her chin, drawing a line of blood. "I think I like this better."

She tried to summon the last of her strength, but she was drained. Helpless. All she could do was stare him down as he smirked down at her, enjoying the power he had. He might kill her, but she would never yield to him. Never. He snarled like an animal as he raised his sword for his final strike. Just before he swung, a crossbow bolt pierced into his side. He stumbled back and his markings flared at the pain.

Marian felt the tingling warmth of Anders' healing spell, and she found the strength to pull herself to her feet. She hurled spell after spell at Fenris, sending him dodging and rolling to avoid her. She turned into a creature of pure instinct. She had hoped he wouldn't really be able to kill her, but he had proven he could. If he wouldn't show mercy, she couldn't either. She tried to pretend this was just any other fight. It was the only way she could keep going.

When he drew close enough to really fight her, she was glad for the razor sharp blade on the bottom end of her staff and the hours of practice she put into using it. They each knew how the other fought, and she could anticipate his every move. She even saw it coming when he punched her in the face and sent her spinning away from him, though she had no way to stop it. As she stumbled, head reeling, the blade end of her staff must have stuck out behind her. She froze when she heard the sickening noise of metal sliding through flesh.

She turned around, and to her horror saw Fenris impaled on the end of her staff. His eyes widened as he stared at her, then down at the blade in his stomach. His sword clattered to the ground. A thin line of blood escaped the corner of his mouth and ran down his chin. Shocked, Marian yanked her staff out and threw it aside. Without the staff holding him up, Fenris collapsed.

Without thinking, she fell to her knees beside him and pulled his head into her lap. It didn't matter how much he hated her or that he just tried to kill her. All she knew was she loved him, and now he was dying. She smoothed his hair back from his face and tried in vain to wipe the blood away. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry," she whispered.

He coughed and gasped for breath as he raised a shaking hand to cup her cheek. "I lied…when I said…" His head started to droop and his eyes closed.

Panic gripped her. "Stay with me," she pleaded. She wasn't ready. She couldn't lose him. Not now. She pulled him close and kissed his forehead.

His eyes fluttered open. "Told you…I didn't care…that you…loved me," he rasped. Blood filled his mouth, turning his teeth and lips red. "I lied." His eyes slipped closed again, and his hand dropped from her face.

"No," she whispered. A tear rolled down her cheek. "No!" She gathered him into her arms. "Wake up. Please." She buried her face in his shoulder and sobbed. She'd waited too long, wasted too much time not being with him. If only she'd had more time. If only they hadn't both been so bloody stubborn.

Her grief welled up inside her until it overflowed. She raised her head and screamed to relieve the pressure gripping her chest. Her scream echoed and bounced off the hard stone walls of the courtyard, and she hoped the templars outside heard. She wanted them to know what they had done to her.

She wanted them to know they would pay for it.


End file.
